


Passions

by AuthorInDistress



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 22:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: After having moved to the city three years ago, Steve works in a downtown office, bored out of his mind.Then he sees Jonathan Byers again.





	Passions

.

The manager led him around the office space like a real estate agent would show off a mansion, though in all honesty, it wasn’t all that much to look at. The desks were small, the chairs smaller, everyone looked miserable, and the receptionist was the brightest thing here but even she was pretty grey compared to the real world.

It sucked but to the manager, it was evidently his pride-and-joy.

“And over here of course, is where I’d put another few trainees if I could. But, employees’ rights and so on,” The man laughed, a pushy thing that made Steve realise he wanted him to join in. He tried, his laugh sounding weak even to himself, but Mr Sawyer barely noticed.

“You’ll be sat here,” He pat a desk in the area he’d just said breached employees’ rights, and Steve wasn’t surprised it did, considering how cramped it was, “When we’ve moved all these boxes of course.” He gestured to a pile of junk that surrounded the chair and desk, “But you can settle in for now, though. Go on, coat on the hook. Let’s get you started.”

Steve did as told, taking his jacket off and hanging it on the completely full coat-hanger and sliding into the seat that his new manager stood at. Mr Sawyer’s hands were sweaty when they grasped his and placed them on the desk, “Don’t touch the chairs, son.” He told him and Steve blinked, “Button to switch it on on’s on the box, can you reach it?”

“Uh. I think so.” He couldn’t move the chair back without hitting Sawyer, so he just tried to bend as far down as he could to reach for it. His shirt rode up as he did however, riding further as he strained to turn the damn thing on as quickly as he could, but sweaty hands pulled it down for him.

He grimaced, bumping his head on the table.

“Careful, son.” Sawyers commented.

When Steve’s father had told him that he’d gotten him a job he knew that he’d had to be grateful, to thank him for the ‘effort’, but deep down he’d also known that he didn’t want to work in an office all his life. And he knew as well that, as punishment for not getting into a good college, his father wouldn’t have gotten him a _good_ office job either.

Considering the sleezy manager and the stale cigar smoke in the air, his prediction had been right. But still, he didn’t say anything at all during his first few days and held a good first impression, because this would get him money, and money he could save and could use as a way to get out of here and get a better job. A better future.

So he ignored how he felt and where he was currently stuck and started inputting the data that he was trained and hired to input. It was boring work and repetitive work but his first paycheque wasn’t what he’d been getting at Scoops at all so he put up with it. Sawyers approached him a few times during his probational week as well, to ‘check that he was up-to-scratch’, and if he happened to steady him on a wobbly chair with a grip on his shoulder every time? Well. He needed the job.

It wasn’t until week four that Steve’s mood started to improve. His training had been short as his job role mostly consisted of sitting at his desk and inputting numbers and contacts into a spreadsheet and then doing a round of coffees for everyone else every hour or so, which had turned him into a zombie of sorts from the boredom. Which was why, when the doors opened behind him, he didn’t bother looking around because it never really was anything interesting. He only reacted when he heard Sawyers say:

“Byers! About time!”

_Byers?_

He turned quickly, a tray full of mugs in his hands, and he placed Williams’ down for him before he could spilt it, looking up with wide-eyes to see Jonathan Byers stood there in a washed-out button down and pants, his camera in hand and a dumbstruck look on his face as well.

“Steve?” He frowned, startling when Sawyers clapped his shoulder.

“Byers, come on in. Let’s see what you’ve got this time.” He led Jonathan away to his office, oblivious to the fact that Steve and he clearly knew each other or just not caring. Steve continued to stare nonetheless, hoping that Jonathan would glance back and see him but he was focused on showing Sawyers some photographs instead now.

“Hey,” Williams snapped his fingers in his face, “Get moving, Harrington. You want Myers to moan his coffee’s gotten cold?”

“No. Sorry.” He snapped himself out of it, lifting the tray back up and walking around the office to hand out the rest. He was back at his desk when Jonathan eventually left Sawyers and, contrary to what he thought he’d do, he made a beeline toward him.

“Hey,” He greeted, propping his camera on the table and looking down at him, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” Steve smiled, “I was starting to think my life had always consisted of,” He tapped at his keyboard, “Name, Name, Enter.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan gave him a smile too, “It does look kind of boring.”

He nodded, “Yep. Good to see someone from Hawkins though. How is everyone back there?”

“I uh, I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I’ve been living out in the city, doing my internship.” He lifted his camera, “Photography, you know?”

“Oh that’s cool. So, you – ”

“Harrington!” Sawyers stepped out of his office, making them jump, “I don’t pay you to yap!”

“Sorry, sir,” Steve winced, giving Jonathan a look, “Hey look. I finish at 7 today, and there’s this café nearby. You want to meet? Catch up?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan’s smile grew, “Yeah sure.” He gave a farewell nod, twisting around the desks to leave. Steve watched him go, startling when a mug was suddenly placed none-too-gently on his desk.

“No cream this time.” Sawyers said, heading back to his office and Steve sighed, rising to make a fresh batch of coffee.

By the time it was 7, he had a banging headache and was utterly exhausted, pulling his coat on like it was made of bricks and ugly-yawning as he locked up. He wanted nothing more than to curl under his blankets and sleep until the morning but he wasn’t about to stand Jonathan up after not seeing him for so long. So he trudged through the crowds of workers all leaving at the same time and headed toward the café, finding a booth near the back and sitting at it with his head on the table, finally breathing in air that wasn’t full of cigar smoke and sweat.

“Long day?” He groaned as he looked up, spotting Lacy Newton standing by in her typical pinafore dress. She worked at the office opposite and they walked together sometimes, to work or when buying coffee to top up their respective work-kitchens.

“Ugh. The longest.” He groaned again and she laughed with agreement.

“You here alone?”

“No, I’m meeting an old friend,” He gestured to the seat before him, “But you’re welcome to sit while I wait.”

“Oh, great, thanks.” She slid into the booth, sighing, “I’m exhausted too. Just getting a few muffins to go but they’re pretty busy right now.”

“Yeah you might be waiting a while.”

“Mm hm.”

“Why not charm the chef?” He suggested, “I hear he likes redheads.” She squinted, kicking him under the table, “Ow!”

“Serves you right. Who charms a chef for _muffins?_”

“I would.”

“Well I’ll just wait, thank you very much.” She tapped her green painted nails over the table, “So. What friend? From your hometown?”

“Yeah,” He pulled free a napkin, shredding it in his hands, “Haven’t seen him since he graduated.”

“Wow, so what’s that? thirty – No.” She snapped her fingers, “Forty years ago?”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious, I’m dying.” He rolled his eyes, “And no. Three years. … I think.” Briefly, he remembered the last time he’d seen anyone from Hawkins and his heart twitched in his chest, the smell of blood and monsters pretty distinct in his memory.

“Must be nice to see them again then.” Lacy continued, snapping him out of it.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Yeah I hope so.” He nodded, eagerly, “He’s – it used to be complicated with us but. I mean, time changes stuff, doesn’t it?”

Cocking her head to one side, she asked, “Complicated how?”

“Oh he was dating my ex.”

She inhaled sharply, looking surprised, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, realising how it sounded a moment later and raising a hand, “But it’s all okay _now_, though. I got over it. I mean – it wasn’t done _vindictively.”_

“Well obviously, if you’re friends with him.” She smiled, folding her arms across her chest and blowing out her cheeks, “That’s big of you.”

“Not really.” He shrugged, “Jonathan … was better for her.”

They sat in silence for a while, the napkin that he’d been picking at completely torn to pieces now, so he started gathering it all and brushing it onto one hand. Lacy watched him, jiggling her leg, until eventually she asked:

“You ever miss your hometown?”

He blinked, surprised at the sudden question but answering honestly anyway, “Um. Yeah.”

“Really? I couldn’t wait to get out of mine.”

“Yeah well, I get that too,” He shrugged, “But I guess I just – I miss the _people.”_

She made a mocking face, “Aw.” He glared at her and she giggled, “Hence you meeting your friend _today_ when you’re clearly about ready to collapse.”

“Clearly,” He made a face then, worried, “Do I look that bad?”

“Oh of course not, hon,” She smiled, “You look handsome as always.” He smiled back, happy to hear it, and his smile grew when a movement from just behind her caught his eye. Jonathan had entered the café, wearing the same shirt as before, and he’d spotted them and was hovering around their booth.

“Jonathan,” He waved him over, Lacy turning in her seat to see him, “Hey!”

“Hi,” Jonathan walked a little closer, looking a little awkward and out-of-place, “Uh. I’m uh – I’m Jonathan.”

“Oh right,” Steve straightened, “Jonathan, this is Lacy.”

“Hi,” She jut a hand out for him to shake, which he did, “Nice to meet you.” She stood then, pushing herself out of the booth and brushing her skirt down, “Well I’d love to chat, but my muffins are done.” She gestured to the cashier who was currently wrapping her order, “See you tomorrow Steve.”

“Yeah see you.” She grabbed her bag and went out through the doors, jogging across the road toward the streets that led to her apartment. Once she was gone, Jonathan eased himself down.

“Sorry I’m late.” He said, his awkwardness vanishing, “I had to talk to my landlord and it ran over.”

“That’s okay,” Steve shrugged, “I wasn’t waiting that long anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Seriously, I just got here.”

Jonathan nodded, his once-floppy hair gelled a little now and styled to keep it out of his face, but subtly. If Steve hadn’t known him from before, he’d think the look was natural.

“Okay, good. It’s just – usually I’d leave the landlord thing if I had somewhere to be but he can be pretty pushy when he wants to be.”

Steve frowned, “Are there – problems with your rent?”

“No, nothing like that.” He picked the menu up, twisting it around in his hands, “It’s not even my issue. It’s just my neighbour’s been complaining that Upstairs has dogs. He wanted to know if I’d heard anything.”

Currently in a similar situation himself, Steve scrunched his lips to one side, “And?”

“And?” Jonathan smirked, “My neighbour’s an _ass_ who drunkenly sings at 2 in the morning and upstairs are nothing but nice. I didn’t hear a _thing.”_

Taken-aback and thoroughly over any nervousness at seeing Jonathan now, Steve laughed.

They talked a lot then for over an hour, mostly new information about their current lives now but with a few memories from Hawkins as well. Steve told him that he had an animal in a no-pets flat as well, a cat, and that one of his neighbours had complained about it meowing when he wasn’t in, and Jonathan told him that his internship had him trekking all around the city just for a few minute-meetings a day.

Will and Ms Byers were apparently all okay, nothing weird going on, and Will was also acing his art classes, drawing anything and everything he could remember about the upside down until his teacher had praised him on his imagination. He wasn’t sure what to do for college yet but had been assured that he could take a year to think about it and was constantly asking Jonathan to find information out in the city about different jobs and experiences.

Ms Byers was doing a writing course herself, having published a small book on ‘getting over the death of a loved one’, and was bringing in a steady income that took a load of stress from both her and her eldest son.

Dustin, Lucas and Max were planning to go Hawkins College, though Dustin was only going for the one year and was then transferring to a college nearer his dad; the condition he’d agreed to when the man had promised to pay for it all.

Mike had piggy-backed on his dad’s political career and was planning to go to college, get a degree, and then run for Mayor.

_“Mayor?”_ Steve gaped.

“Yeah.” Jonathan agreed, “He says he doesn’t trust the government anymore and would rather be a part of changing it than just hiding from it. Nancy says he wants to go from Mayor to President.”

“Jesus.” He sat back, utterly baffled, “And, and Nancy? What’s she up to?”

“Oh, uh, she moved up to North Carolina.”

“She did? Wow. That’s – that’s a big move.”

“She’s in Hawkins most of the time though, she started her own business there, did you know?” He nodded, “So yeah. She just travels for the better stories and got a place in North Carolina to make it easier. I mean, Hawkins isn’t exactly as _exciting_ as it used to be.”

They both shared a private smile at that and Steve rapped his knuckles on the table, three times for luck, “Don’t jinx it.”

“Sorry.”

They were then interrupted by Jo, one of the waitresses. She wasn’t his favourite here and he doubted he was hers, considering the little history he had between her daughter and him, but he never really knew when she was working so couldn’t avoid seeing her.

“You know you can’t sit here and not order anything, Harrington,” She told him, her tone clipped. Steve nodded, taking the menu from Jonathan’s hands.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” He glanced down at it, despite knowing most by-heart now, “I’ll take a waffle. With, um. With some chocolate sauce, please.”

“No chocolate sauce.” She shook her head.

“Okay. Just the – waffle then. Jonathan?”

“Uh. The same please.”

“Sure.” She noted it down in her book, “So two waffles, one with and one without chocolate sauce.”

Steve bit his tongue to keep from answering but Jonathan frowned, opening his mouth only to snap it shut when Jo whirled around and left.

“What was that all about?” He asked, still frowning.

“I dated her daughter,” Steve explained, “It didn’t work out.”

If anything, his frown deepened, “So? Did you cheat on her?”

_“No.”_ He’d never, “No, nothing like that. It just – didn’t work out. We had a disagreement, she said some things I couldn’t sit on, so I broke up with her.” He sighed, “She took it better than her mother did, though, I’ll tell you. Jo’s a fulltime waitress so all the regulars know she has it in for me.”

“Then why come here?”

He shrugged, “I like the food.”

They left after their waffles, with Jonathan having poured some of his chocolate sauce onto Steve’s for him, and the night air was chilly and bitter outside. Jonathan’s apartment was a drive away so as Steve’s was much closer, they decided to walk there together to call a taxi for him.

As they did, Steve realised that he’d never really ‘hung out’ with Jonathan back in Hawkins. At least, not when there wasn’t a monster or government conspiracy involved. So really, their time now should have been a little more awkward and yet, he’d felt completely at ease. He hoped the same could be said for Jonathan but for all he knew, he might just be glad the night was almost over.

“So what about your parents?” Jonathan asked, his hands in his jacket pockets, hunched over through the cold.

“Oh they’re fine. My dad’s the one who got me the job here.” He waved a hand as he spoke, “It’s shitty pay, shitty work and shitty people, but hey. It’s a job.”

“What about college?” He knew why Jonathan hadn’t gone, he’d wanted his mother to save all her money for Will, but Steve was an only child and his parents were rich.

“Oh, you know,” He tried to sound light, not sure how Jonathan didn’t know this when Nancy did, but then he realised she’d probably thought it was a secret. To be fair, he had spoken about it like one and had vaguely hinted to anyone who’d asked that he was taking a gap year back after graduation. “I um. I couldn’t get in to any.”

He expected sympathy, or pure surprise. Or even, cynically, a remark that he could have paid his way in. But instead, Jonathan just looked at him, “What courses did you apply for?”

“… Business. Like my dad.”

“Did you _want_ to do Business?” He paused, not having really been asked that before.

“I don’t know,” He said, honestly, “I never really – thought about what _I_ wanted to do. My dad chose everything. He always has.”

“I get that.” Jonathan nodded, “I mean I – I found photography by accident.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. When my dad moved out, I was helping my mom with some package boxes and one of them fell. It had films in it and an old camera. I just like, started fiddling with it, taking pictures and stuff and then we went to get the negatives developed and I liked how they’d turned out. So Mom got me my own two Christmases later.”

“And now look at you. Esteemed Intern,” He realised how that sounded and winced, trying to show he hadn’t meant it like that but Jonathan just laughed.

“It’s a start.” He said, “But my point was, my dad probably would have wanted me to be an engineer. Or a mechanic. But I found my passion by digging through his old boxes instead.” He stopped, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder to turn him his way, “Your dad put you on a business path that obviously didn’t fit. You just need to find your passion, go from there.”

A little awed, Steve stared at him, “How do I do that?”

“You try things. See what you like. What you’re good at.”

He pressed his lips together, unsure of why his chest felt so tight. He supposed it was because he’d never really thought about doing something outside of his dad’s frame of view, and never believed he’d be told he had that choice.

“When did you get so wise?” He teased then, to belly the seriousness of this conversation.

“I’ve always been wise.” Jonathan said, matter-of-factly, “You’ve just never asked me for advice.”

“Well. My mistake.”

They were at his door a moment later and Steve unlocked it for them, stepping through and shaking his jacket off, stamping his feet to warm them up. His heating was already on however, mostly for his cat, so the chills from outside vanished pretty quickly. His bills usually suffered for it but he could deal with it. Besides, his mom had paid for the first deposit of this flat anyway and she occasionally helped him if he didn’t have enough for rent.

Jonathan stepped over the threshold, taking in the home, but he kept his coat on; making it clear that he was only here for the taxi.

“You can stay for a drink, if you want.” Steve offered anyway.

“I’ve got an early start,” Jonathan said, apologetically, “Besides. You look worn out.”

Right. Lacy had said that too. He made a face, running a hand through his hair, “Okay. Phone’s over there to call, I’ll be right back.” He left him by the coach, slipping around the kitchen counter and through the tiny hallway toward his bedroom. As suspected, his cat was curled up on his pillow.

She’d clearly been sleeping but was now wide-awake and staring at him, peeping happily once she noticed who it was that had disturbed her.

“Hi baby,” He cooed, toeing off his shoes and walking around to gather her into his arms. She started purring immediately, “Hey. Did you miss me today?” She meowed and he pressed a kiss to her head, taking her out of the room and dropping her when she wriggled to be let go.

She made a beeline for her bowl and he took her food out of the bottom kitchen cupboard, shaking some out for her to eat. Jonathan approached as she munched down on it, leaning over the counter to look at her.

“She seems okay with strangers,” He commented and Steve grinned.

“Oh she just hasn’t noticed you yet.” He crouched to stroke her and she chirruped again, as though surprised he was still there, “She’s not the brightest thing.”

“Must be why she likes you.”

“You’re hilarious,” He rolled his eyes, standing, “You get a taxi?”

“Yeah, it should be – ” There was a horn outside and they both winced, especially when a light switched on in the flat opposite. “Here soon.” The neighbour banged on the wall, yelling something unintelligible through it and Jonathan winced again, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve giggled, shaking his head, “But you’d better go before he beeps again.”

“Right.” They looked at each other and Jonathan stepped forward, raising a hand. Steve raised both of his automatically, as someone who always hugged his friends goodbye, but then he noticed that it was just the one and dropped his. Jonathan had caught on too however and had lifted his other until they both looked like puppets pulling each other’s strings and just awkwardly stepped closer to hug.

“See you.”

“Yeah. See you.” Jonathan felt in his jacket for his wallet and keys before turning to head out. At the last moment, he looked back and said, “Listen. I’m not free tomorrow but Thursdays my off-day.”

Steve blinked, “Oh. Um. I work every weekday.” He stammered, only to see Jonathan’s disappointment and add, “But I can call in sick.”

“No don’t do that.” His disappointment vanished and the smile was back, “I’ll be at this festival Saturday though, around 10ish. Downtown. If you’re free then, I’ll meet you at the camera stall – ” The taxi outside pressed the horn a second time so Jonathan quickly ducked out with a, “Shit – I’ll see when I see you!”

Steve snorted, shutting the door after him and ignoring his neighbours call of _‘Fucking kids!’_ through the wall.

He woke the next morning, feeling happier than he had in a long while and rolled over to stroke Fran’s back when he spotted her curled up beside him. She stretched for the morning as well, following him into the bathroom and running between his legs as he got dressed.

He didn’t even care that Michaels called him an idiot when he bumped into him in the office and sat at his desk with a small smile, tapping away at his computer.

“You get laid or something, kid?” One of the other guys, Gregson, asked him.

“No. Just had a nice night.”

“Uh huh. Must’ve been real nice for you to forget I don’t take cream with my coffee.”

“Oh – shit. I’m sorry.” Steve got to his feet immediately, heading around to take the mug and correct his mistake when he noticed that most of them were laughing to themselves. He paused mid-step and Gregson grinned.

“Oh don’t look so soppy kid, it’s just a joke. Coffee’s fine.” He took a gulp of it as though to prove that point, “Jesus, not even my wife gets that upset over a cup of grounds.”

“Right.” Steve nodded, turning back around and taking his seat again, good mood gone.

“No need to sulk, Harrington.”

“I’m not.” He returned to his work, trying to ignore the sensation of what he knew was them making faces at each other behind his back. He was teased a little more throughout the day after that but the more it went on, the easier he was able to pretend he wasn’t getting irritated.

Which was why, by the time it was time for him to head home, he was both relieved and mentally exhausted. Sawyer stopped him on his way out and asked that he get a few more teabags as well as coffee, grumbling as he did.

“Damn Doctors.” Was his explanation of why and, despite wanting to fall asleep then and there, Steve knew that he’d needed to go shopping anyway so didn’t complain. Not that he would have even then, or at least, not _aloud_. So, as he was the last one out, as per usual, he locked the doors behind him and blew into his hands when the winter chill hit.

The nearest mini-mart was on his way and it was much warmer inside, especially in the bread aisle. He gathered the few essentials he’d run out of along with the regular office coffee and now-tea, and went to the checkout, barely stifling a yawn.

He was the only one here at the moment, excluding the shopkeeper, and as he glanced about he spotted the overhead CCTV and paused at the shadow he saw flit across it. The light flickered then as well and almost instantaneously, his heart stopped.

“Twelve Dollars.”

He stared at the screen, the shadow returning for only a second and its shape was unmistakable.

“Sir? That’s twelve dollars.” The shopkeeper leant over to pat his arm and he startled, blinking at her.

“What?”

She gave him a long look before repeating, “Twelve Dollars.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He gave her the cash and gathered his things, practically booking it home from there. He felt paranoid the entire time, only relaxing when he was in his flat and had the door locked. Not that that helped much with monsters but his brain seemed to think so.

Fran hopped off the counter once she saw him and padded over.

“Hey baby,” He bent, stroking a line down her back, “Sorry. Got a little freaked out.” She meowed at him, “Yeah, yeah. I’m dumb I know.”

Despite calming himself down, he desperately wished he wasn’t alone right now, but the only other address he knew was Lacy’s and he doubted her roommates would appreciate him dropping by so suddenly and so late.

So instead, feeling impulsive, he picked the telephone up and grabbed his phonebook, finding ‘Byers House’ and dialling.

“Hello?” He didn’t recognise the voice and frowned. _“Hello?”_

“Uh, hello? I’m looking for Ms Byers?”

“Steve?” The voice asked, brightening, “Is that you?”

“Yeah?” His frown deepened until he realised, “Holy Shit, _Will?_ What the hell happened to your _voice?”_

“It’s called puberty,” Will laughed and now that Steve knew it was him for sure, he could tell. “I’m taller than Mike now too.”

“Jesus really? I bet he loves that.” He smiled, relaxed now, “But wow. You sound – like an adult.”

“I’m 18, Steve. I am an adult.”

“Yeah, my mom says I’m not an adult until I’m 50 so that goes for you too.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” He heard Ms Byers then, in the background, asking who it was, “It’s Steve Mom! Steve Harrington! He wants to speak to you!”

Steve took the receiver from his ear, wincing, “You couldn’t yell _away_ from the phone?”

“Sorry. Anyway, uh, Mom’s here. And I’d like to talk more but my art project’s literally about to collapse if I don’t go and support it right now.”

“Oh yeah, Jonathan said you’ve been doing a lot of art lately.”

“You saw Jonathan? Did he say if he’s coming to – oh shit. _Mom,_ get the _phone!”_ There was a thud as he clearly dropped the receiver to run and then he could hear Ms Byers amused sigh.

“Hello Steve,” She greeted, “I’m sorry about that.”

He was too busy laughing to say it didn’t matter at first, “It’s fine. I won’t keep you.”

“No don’t be silly, we haven’t heard from you in such a long time! How are you? How’s the city?”

“It’s good. Uh. Real good. My dad got me an office job, I started about a month or so ago.”

“That sounds boring.”

He laughed again, “It is! But it’s been better than shadowing my dad when he’d worked from home, so I’m not complaining too much.”

“How _are_ your parents?” He could tell she only asked to be polite, especially since the last they’d spoken, she and his parents hadn’t exactly agreed. In fact, his Mom constantly ranted that they’d only moved out to the city-house because of ‘_that Ms Byers!’_

“They’re great. The city’s been good for them.” It had, if he was honest. Less hours at the office meant more hours at home and less chances for cheating. With that out of the equation, his Mom had relaxed around his Dad and their tension had been neutered a little. “But I uh – I guess I miss Hawkins. And you guys.”

“We miss you too, sweetie.”

He smiled, not for the first time wishing he’d had the guts to say to his parents that he’d stay behind and rent a flat in Hawkins instead. He knew it never would have worked but still, he should have tried.

“I saw Jonathan the other day,” He continued, “And he caught me up on what I’d missed.”

“Oh I’m glad you two found each other. He’s been saying it’s been a little lonely there.”

“He did?”

“Mm. But if you see him again, please remind him he needs to _let me know_ if he’s coming home for Christmas or not. I know he’s busy but Will and I’d love him there.”

“Sure.” He nodded, despite her not being able to see, “But that’s actually why I called too. I was wondering … if you’d give me his address here?”

“Oh of course! Hang on.” He heard her put the receiver down on the counter and waited, shooing Fran away when she clawed at his socks and tried to rip a hole in them, “Okay. Do you have a pen?”

He grabbed one, told her he did, and found himself standing in the road a few minutes later. Jonathan’s flat was pressed between several and the stairs smelt like pee, but it wasn’t too long a taxi ride away and it wasn’t as though Jonathan slept out here either. So he held a hand to his nose and mouth and knocked on the door number Joyce had given him.

He heard a thud and a curse, very thin walls then, and chains were taken away to open the door. Jonathan blinked at him, looking flummoxed at seeing him here.

Steve waved. He waved back.

“Uh. Hi?”

“Hi.” Hand still over his nose and mouth, Steve teetered on the balls of his feet, “Can I come in?”

“Huh? Oh!” Stepping back, Jonathan let him in over the threshold, shutting the door after him, “Sorry. I didn’t um – I mean I wasn’t expecting – ”

“I think I saw a Demogorgon.” Steve cut him off and the way Jonathan’s jaw clicked shut should have been funny, if it weren’t due to shock over hearing that. “In the store. About a half hour ago.”

“That’s impossible.” Jonathan shook his head, “El _closed_ the gate, remember? And the Russians ran away. And even if there were some out, why here? Why not back in Hawkins?”

“I don’t know.” Steve hugged himself, “I don’t even know if I imagined it but – I didn’t feel safe at home alone so I figured … I mean, now that I know you live so close?” He glanced about, biting his lip, and he caught the exact moment that Jonathan caught on.

“Oh you wanna – ?” He backed up, turning to the sofa and heaving what looked like boxes upon boxes of photographs, “Sure. Yeah, no problem. Let me just – ”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to do that. I don’t mind the floor.”

“Trust me,” Jonathan scoffed, “The floor is a hazard you don’t want to risk.” He tidied around, grabbing a blanket from under more boxes, “Did you – you can have the bed if you want? I’m not planning on sleeping for a while.”

“Why?” Joining him on the sofa, Steve toed one of the boxes, “Whatchu doing?”

With a short laugh that was full of stress, Jonathan ran a hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks, “My portfolio.” He gestured to the mess, “It’s uh – it’s not going well.”

“Can I help?”

Glancing at him in surprise, Jonathan met his gaze, something conflicting running through them before he eventually nodded, “Yeah. If you don’t mind. It’s just sorting right now, trying to categorise every picture.” He made a face, “I just obviously take too many of them.”

Grinning at that, Steve lifted a pile out of the nearest box and flicked through the first few. They were mostly of trees but one had a young child on a swing set in them. “So, nature for these?” He showed the trees, “And children for this?” The swing set photo.

“Children?” Jonathan turned to him, “I don’t _have_ a children pile, Jesus, there’s too many _categories.”_

“Do you have a list?” Steve asked, trying to calm him down.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. It’s behind you on the coffee table.”

Steve reached for it, scanning down over Jonathan’s scrawled handwriting, “Dude.” He remarked, “I think you missed your calling in Medicine.”

“Fuck you.” Grabbing the list, Jonathan read aloud, “Nature, Architecture, Happiness, Sadness, Animal Life, Water, Family.”

With that, Steve started to sort alongside him, adding only two more categories to the list as he went; ‘Melancholy’ and ‘Eerie’.

They worked for hours and as the clock struck 3am, Steve yawned, knowing he was going to be exhausted come tomorrow at work.

“You should get some sleep,” Jonathan told him, “I don’t have as early a start as you do.” He gestured to the room, “My bed’s in there.”

Too tired to argue, Steve nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He slouched his way to the bedroom and collapsed on the covers, not even bothering to pull them off and tuck himself in. When he woke at 7am the next morning however, he was half dressed and under them, burrowed into the pillows and toasty warm.

He got dressed into yesterdays clothes, fully intent on getting a taxi home and changing but Jonathan had made breakfast and that stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had actual breakfast.

He’d made fried eggs, sausages and creamy-buttered toast, and it was all pretty delicious.

“Wow, thank you.” He tucked in, aware he was probably running late and would end up going in his crumpled clothes, but at the moment he didn’t care. It was as he was leaving and saw the time, that he started to worry.

Jonathan and he made plans to meet for the festival Saturday and he was out the door as soon as his taxi arrived. As he went however, he didn’t miss the dirty look Jonathan’s neighbour gave him as he passed. She was on her own way out, a toddler standing by her side with his hand in hers, and he heard her mutter something under her breath but was too busy jogging down the steps to catch it entirely.

The taxi ride was surprisingly traffic free which was annoying because if he’d given his apartment’s address, he could have gone home first and changed in the time it saved him, but it was too late now and he’d just have to deal with it. Luckily, since it sometimes became so roasting inside, he had a spare can of deodorant in his drawer at work.

Upon arrival however, Gregson immediately commented.

“Sleep on the roadside, Harrington?”

Not willing to tell them the real reason or give them any more ammo, he shook his head, “No, I had a plumbing issue at mine. Had to stay with a friend.”

Surprisingly, that seemed to start a bit of camaraderie.

“Ah rentals, hey. Always shitting on you when you least need them to.”

“Yeah I remember my first flat, piece of garbage toilet, never flushed and the pipes sang all night.”

“And the landlords, don’t get me started on that breed. Jesus hell.”

The moment was ruined when someone reminded him to make the coffee but at least he hadn’t been the butt of some joke today. In fact, until around midday, his state of dress wasn’t even mentioned at all, but then Sawyers came in and not even five minutes later, called him to his office.

“Harrington,” He gestured he sit, which Steve did, slowly, “I have mentioned to you before about dressing appropriately for work? That means owning an iron, son.”

“I do, sir. I just – had a plumbing issue, had to stay with a friend.”

“And they don’t own an iron?”

“I was running late; they don’t live as close to here as I do – ”

“And what? You don’t have any friends closer by?”

He blinked, “Not male friends, no. Sir.”

“Well this is unacceptable. Go home and change.”

Completely embarrassed, because he knew this entire exchange had been heard by the rest of the office, he stood and gathered his things, leaving. The walk to his flat felt like forever after that but once he stepped inside, Fran went crazy to see him and that cheered him up immensely.

“Hey baby.” He scooped her up, letting her wet nose rub all over his face as she scented him, checking and double-checking that it was him. “Sorry I left you all alone last night.”

She meowed in his face, her breath smelling of the fish her food was made from, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Thanks.” Dropping her, he went to have a quick shower, get dressed into something smarter, before brushing and spraying his hair. After that, he went back to work, sitting at his desk ramrod straight and ignoring the murmuring behind him.

“Clean up nice, huh?” Someone said a little louder than the rest but then the doors opened and a woman walked in. Immediately, they all went silent, watching as she went into Sawyer’s office. Having met her before, when he’d stayed late, Steve ignored her presence and continued working.

Sawyers’ wife was loud however, and rude, and it was difficult to tune out her shouting. Particularly when he heard his own name amidst it. Everyone turned to look at him when they heard it as well, and he turned, looking toward the office himself. Sawyers was red in the face, spluttering and clearly denying something, but when his wife jabbed a finger toward Steve, he started yelling back at her.

The door was closed so their conversation was muffled and hard to understand but whatever it was, it wasn’t good for him. Especially when, once she stormed out, she finished by saying.

“If you wanted a rent boy, get one _not_ from a family we know!”

Stunned, Steve stared after her, flushing a dark red when the room became silent, every one of them making their own assumptions about what that meant. Sawyers came out as well, looking to Steve himself.

“Harrington,” He panted, “You’re fired.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes! I didn't read this over lol


End file.
